The Price of Beauty
by Eyrial
Summary: Squire Thornton reflects on how much Isabella has suffered because of her beauty, how much pain it has caused hard concept to describe in a summary Oneshot, T for violence and implications, S3 spoilers.


She has always been beautiful, even now as she's rigid with fear, her face contorted as she awaits punishment and begs for her life. Even at 13 it was the promise of her beauty that brought me to her and when I finally surveyed it for myself what made me decide I to have her, that she alone was worthy of being my wife. I could have and would have no one else. I paid dearly for her, no sum was too much and her brother accepted the fortune with obvious delight. The two of them had nothing but each other, in return for the only person he had in world he got money and in place of her brother she got me. It was customary for a husband to accept a dowry from the girl's family; instead I paid them so that I could marry her. Her beauty, her delicacy and her noble birth made her worth it. Even if she was penniless.

I didn't love her, if I did I may not have had caused her so much pain, I was merely infatuated with her. I didn't have a bad childhood, in fact it was idyllic, a fond memory. I didn't suffer as an adult; I was never mistreated and abused by anyone. I had no reason to treat her the way I did; I had no reason to take so much pleasure in her pain. Perhaps it would had been more understandable if I had been unhappy and filled with a hatred for the world. I had experienced any of the hurt I caused her I would only have been seeking revenge for what had been done to me. I would have been treating people the way I myself had been treated; it would have been all I had known. But I had never been shown anything but kindness. I'm sure not a day went by without her wishing God hadn't made her so beautiful.

I enjoyed every moment she suffered at my hands, every tear she shed because of what I had done to her made my heart swell with joy and I don't know why. Soon she stopped crying, she fought back the tears as an act of defiance, she bit her lip until it bled so I wouldn't have the satisfaction of hearing her so much as whimper in pain when she used to scream. All her efforts just made me smile even more. Her cheeks still burned with humiliation as I degraded her, she made sure her face remained still and emotionless but her eyes betrayed her. They showed me everything I needed to know.

For 17 years she defied me, hoping that one day I would grow tired of her, that I would grow bored of watching her suffer. She only grew more beautiful with age, it did not fade like it did with other women so neither did my infatuation. I saw other men look on in envy when I let her out of the house with me, they wanted her but she was mine and no one else's. I found new ways to inflict pain until she was covered in tiny scars where my punishment grew too much. She always had several sets of bruises in varying colours as they faded over time, from the fresh, angry, purple, black and red of the new marks to the sickly green, yellow and brown of those that were older. Each scar, each bruise was a mark of what her beauty had done each scar, each bruise made her even more beautiful. They marked her out as mine. I was careful never to mar her face; one scar could take away the beauty that kept me captivated. I could never hurt her in places people could see because then people would know what lay underneath her clothes.

One day I cut her too deeply but I would not let her see a physician. I would not let anyone see how beautiful I had made her; I guarded her jealously because she was my most treasured possession. And then she fled. I sent men to retrieve her but they failed and then we lost her. I was furious, she had escaped me, her defiance had made things more fun but this had gone too far. I loved it when she struggled, but she wasn't supposed to wriggle free.

For months I searched in vain, I grew angrier as each day brought no news. Then at last her defiance came back to haunt her, everybody had heard of the female sheriff in Nottingham, the woman called Isabella Gisborne. The one I alone knew was truly Isabella Thornton, my wife. She had infatuated Prince John too, I smiled at the fact she had utilised her beauty for her own gain but livid at the thought that another man may have touched her. Taken what was mine. I followed her to Nottingham, determined to get her back and take her position, I would have power as well as my wife. She had made a life for herself without me but that only pleased me, she threatened me with a knife when I came to her but that only served to make my smile even wider. I had more reason to punish her; I loved her feistiness and her strength. It made it even better to see her broken. It had been too long, I almost went too far, I nearly stabbed her. The thought that once she was dead she was of no use to me was all that stopped me losing all control.

I never expected her to enlist the help of others to make me pay, Robin Hood was famous but I had never thought he would have known Isabella. They captured me but I escaped and learnt that the little slut had been unfaithful. Her strength was no longer endearing. I wanted to make her suffer more than she ever had at my hands before, and I was going to enjoy every pain drenched second. Just like I would enjoy killing Hood after I was done, he had kissed my wife and I was not going to let him live.

That's why there is fear etched into her features and that is why I am so happy. Her beauty was always her downfall but I never expected it to be mine. I could never resist her when she begged, so when I reached to take her into my arms about to claim her as mine again and again I didn't see the knife. All I could think about was what I was going to do. I have always hated pain and I have never experienced pain like I feel now where the knife has pierced my chest, where my life blood pours out. I feel no remorse for what I have done although I know it was wrong and I have been cruel. But I suppose I have been punished for my crimes. Such a painful death, at the hands of one whose whole life thanks to me has been nothing but, is all I deserve.

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**A/N: It's been a while and this is rather short but I have written a lot for LJ, I have another one shot coming in the next few days and a huge fic which isn't going to be on this account but a joint one with my friend, only I wrote it but I want to keep it seperate from this account. It's another RH fic and it will be posted in december sometime because it's for the Bigbanghood challenge and I can't post it for a while after the date it's released on LJ (Nov 1st) if anyone has LJ watch BBH and I'm under Eyrial, if not but are still interested in my fic I'll send a link to the other profile.**


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